Billy Boy (24 page)

Billy followed the tracks down a gradual slope and through the bustling port city. Not wanting to face the gathering throngs of shoppers or rugged seamen loitering near tavern doors, he pulled the wide-brimmed hat low over his forehead and hastened along the tracks.

Billy walked tirelessly for the rest of the day. He had spoken to no one, and no one had spoken to him. When it got dark, he made his meager camp and settled in for the night. The wind howled through the trees, sharp and unfriendly, and he hurried to build his fire.

He wasn't sure what woke him later that night. The fire had dwindled to a pile of low-burning coals. Shivering, he got to his tired feet and scavenged in the dark for more wood. Away from the fire's faint glow, he gazed at the sky, its moon and stars brilliant in the clear night. He spotted the North Star low in the northern sky. Billy rekindled the fire and lay down just far enough away to stay warm and still keep his sights on the North Star. Comforted by the thought that Elijah might be looking at it and thinking of him, too, he fell at last into a soothing sleep, as if his friend were there beside him.

There was no wind the next morning, and it was eerily quiet as Billy lay on his back listening to the waves breaking. Frost blanketed the ground, and although he struggled to rebuild his fire, he was unsuccessful. Frustrated, Billy stalked off toward the
rail bed, deciding to get an early start. Opening his canteen for a drink, he found that the water had frozen solid, and the last remnants of his bread and cheese crumbled in his hands. He pulled the wide-brimmed hat close to his ears, raised the collar on his coat, and started off, still hoping he was close to Portsmouth. He could smell the snow before it started to fall. The wind returned and blew heavy flakes sideways, stinging his face. He took a mouthful of snow to quench his thirst. Afraid of losing his way, he hunched his shoulders against the snow, searching with each careful step for the tracks beneath his feet. His hands froze as he gripped his hat, and snow ran down the sleeves of his coat, sending cold, wet shivers through his body.

Suddenly all was still. Without slowing in its intensity, the blowing snow just vanished, and a hazy sun slowly emerged. While walking in the blinding snow, Billy had lost all sense of time and distance, and now he wondered how far he had walked. Ahead he saw a church spire towering above the treetops, and spiraling tufts of smoke.

Billy broke into a run. He followed the tracks over the last tract of marsh, not stopping until he had reached a muddied road that curved around a ragged, rocky shore and spilled onto a working harbor of canneries and fishing vessels. He headed inland, toward the center of the town, where a bumpy cobbled street ran into the town square. It looked familiar … the square … the redbrick church.
It's Market Square, I'm thinkin'! It's Portsmouth—it is, it is!

He spun around in the middle of the square, looking for the street that led to the inner harbor and the bridge to Kittery, Maine. Crossing Market Square, he headed for the winding street that ran downhill toward the river, and then followed it to the stone bridge that spanned the Piscataquis River separating
New Hampshire from Maine. He was fairly sure he knew the rest of the way home; he'd driven Ma back and forth to the big market a number of times over the years and if he hurried, he thought he might just make it to Cranberry Meadow Road that night.

Chapter 24

M
uch later, in the dimming light, Billy spotted Jamie walking toward the barn carrying a bucket. He cupped his hands. “Jamie! It's me! It's me—Billy!”

Jamie turned, dropped his bucket, and stood motionless in the middle of the barnyard. His head darted back and forth as he scanned the field.

Billy shouted again, “Jamie! Jamie!” He waved his arms over his head. This time he was sure Jamie saw him.

“Billeeeeee!” Screaming at the top of his lungs, Jamie raced through the gate and into the field, stumbling, tripping in the darkness until he jumped up into his brother's outstretched arms.

“Billy, it's really you!” Jamie's thin legs wrapped tightly around Billy's waist as he hugged him long and hard. When Billy at last lowered Jamie to the ground, Jamie still had his arms wrapped around Billy's waist, refusing to let go. Laughing, Billy just picked him up and carried him across the field.

The barn door flew open and Pa came out. “Billy—Lord, it's my son—” he said in a halting voice. His eyes filled with tears.

“I come home, Pa.” Billy eased Jamie from his arms and stepped hesitantly toward his father. “I'm sorry, Pa. I know I done wrong to run.” He lowered his head against his chest. “You sore at me?”

“It's all right, my boy,” Pa said, pulling him close in a strong embrace. “Lord Almighty, after your ma and I heard what you done, I never expected I'd see you again.” Pa sighed and offered a faint smile as he removed the wide-brimmed hat from Billy's
head and ran his hand through the matted hair. “By the God, how did you find your way?”

“I remembered what you learned me, Pa.” Billy raised his face to the sky, spun around, and pointed a finger. “The North Star …”

“Well, I'll be. I never—come, let's find your ma.”

“Ma's in the kitchen,” Jamie chimed in. “C'mon!” Pushing himself off Billy, he ran ahead to the farmhouse.

Ma's back was to the door, hands dusted with flour as she turned dough on the tabletop. The door opened and slammed shut.

“Ma …”

For a moment Ma did not move, and then she turned and stared, blinked her soft blue eyes, and calmly wiped her floured hands on her apron.

“Billy!” Hands clutched across her bosom, she took a step forward and fainted.

The old rooster crowed from his lofty barnyard perch, startling Billy from his peaceful sleep. Tossing his quilt aside, he stretched his arms and, yawning himself awake, rolled over on his back. With eyes half-closed, he glanced sleepily at the window. And then it hit him.
He was home.
In his own bed. He heard the bedroom door creak open and bare feet padding across the floorboards. He pretended to be asleep as Jamie tiptoed into his bed. Jamie scrambled beneath the covers, inched his way across the sheets, and burrowed against him.

“I ain't doin' your chores no more, Billy,” said the tiny voice beside him.

“You're needin' to do all the chores, I'm thinkin',” Billy said, mocking the tone of the recruiting officer from months ago. He pulled his pillow out from under him, raised it above his shoulders, and with driving force smacked it against Jamie's head.

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

Jamie flipped over and armed himself with another pillow before Billy could whack him again. Arms and pillows dueled across the bed, mingling with shouts and hoots of laughter. Finally Jamie collapsed in defeat. “Billy, was you scared in the woods?” he asked, catching his breath as he dropped down on his back.

“Naw. Thing is, most times I was with Elijah.” His face brightened, and flipping on his side, Billy leaned on his elbow, resting his face in his hands. “Did I tell you last night about them fellas chasing us?”

Jamie bolted into a sitting position. “Tell me, tell me!” He listened as his brother described the chase through the woods, the men on horses close at their heels.

“Then Elijah said we got to jump this here fence. We hunched down beside the cows—moved real quiet like 'til we got to the barn.”

“And the horsemen chased you right to the barn?”

“Yeah. Elijah said we was needin' to hide.”

Jamie clutched his pillow against his chest. “Where'd you hide—in the hay?”

“Elijah said they'd find us in the hayloft, so he helped me get into one of them hogsheads. Put the lid right over me. Them fellas came runnin' right into the barn.”

Jamie burrowed under the quilt. “Did they look for you in the hogsheads?”

“One of the fellas went and poked the hay with a pitchfork. Never once looked in them barrels. Elijah's right smart.” Billy leaned back on the pillow, his arms clasped under his head. “Me and him like brothers, seems like.” Jamie made no response. Billy glanced at the lump under the quilt. There was no movement. He hesitated, then called out Jamie's name, but his brother did not answer. Billy raised the comforter to see Jamie's lips curled in a pout.

“Aw, Jamie, I told Elijah 'bout you and all.”

“Don't care.”

Billy reached under the quilt and with both hands pulled Jamie out and into his arms. “When Elijah comes to Maine, he can be your big brother, too.”

“I don't want another big brother!”

“But Elijah ain't got family.”

Jamie clasped his arms around Billy's neck. “You likin' Elijah more'n me?”

“It ain't about likin' someone more, I'm thinkin'. Reverend Snow says folks' hearts don't never fill up. Elijah bein' like a brother don't take nuthin' away from how I feel about you.”

The bedroom door flew open. “Well, there you are, Jamie. And here I was thinkin' that you was doin' chores!”

Billy reveled in the grin on Pa's face.

“I'm goin', Pa, but I ain't doin' Billy's.”

Tossing the covers aside, Jamie hopped out of bed and raced to his room across the hall.

“I ain't mindin' chores, Pa.” Billy glanced in his closet and saw his old clothes: a winter jacket, a few pairs of worn trousers, and a handful of flannel shirts hung neatly on the wooden pegs. “Besides, I'm wantin' to be in my own clothes again.”

“Hardly recognized you—what with you all dressed like one of them Quakers. Well, hurry on up. Your ma's fixing pancakes.” Pa turned to walk away, hesitated, turned back, and grinned. “Still got us some maple syrup, Billy Boy.”

Billy watched Pa head down the narrow staircase. The cold air penetrated his nightshirt, and he hurried to the dresser and grabbed a wool sweater. He glanced at the pipe lying on top of the dresser. It was the only thing he had of Grandfather Ephraim's, and the old man had carved it himself. Now he could whittle as well as his grandfather had. He was eager to begin a fish for Elijah and a three-masted schooner for Jamie.

Later that day, after Billy had helped Ma gather eggs, she told him to go find his father. “Pa's wanting to talk to you. He's out gathering the herd—near milking time.”

He heard the clanging of harness bells before spotting the small dairy herd inching lazily across the field. It had been a long time since he'd last milked the cows with Pa. As the cows plodded slowly over the rise, he watched Pa behind them, swatting and goading them with a long stick. Billy called out to Pa and raced across the field.

Pa turned to Billy, a stern look on his face. “There's something I'm needing to tell you, son.”

“Pa?”

“This business with the army ain't over.” Pa rested his hands on his hips and looked out across the pasture, watching the cows move slowly to the barn. “It's likely the army will find out you're here.”

“You gonna tell them, Pa?”

“No, I ain't telling the army, or nobody, Billy. But Lord knows it's gonna be plum hard keeping this secret—and make no mistake—they'll come looking for you.”

Pa took a few steps forward, hesitated, and then started walking again. “Harry wrote us what you done.”

Billy studied Pa's grim face.

“He wrote that they'd sent you on to another unit. Said he didn't think you would have deserted if you'd been able to stay with him.” He took a deep breath and looked down at his son. “Is that why you run off, Billy?”

“You sore at me?”

“Billy, listen—”

“They gonna shoot me, Pa, for what I done? Leighton says they shoot fellas who run off.”

“Don't you be talking like that—especially around your ma!” Pa broke in sharply. “We just need to figure things out—figure a way to keep the army and the folks around here from finding you.”

“Pa,” Billy said, his voice cracking. “These privates went and—”

“It was wrong that you run, Billy, but what's done is done. Folks in town all know you deserted. Most folks been real kind. Henry Kinsley, though—well, his two oldest boys are fighting, and he about took a fit when he heard you run off.”

“I can't go back, Pa. Sergeant Noyes, he—”

Pa grabbed Billy by the shoulders, pressed his fingers firmly into his jacket. “You ain't going back. I never should have let you go from the start. I let that fool recruiting officer take you without a fight. Too late for that. I'm wanting to let you know right now, Billy, that some folks ain't to be trusted. It's important you understand what I'm telling you. You hear me?”

Billy nodded.

“Can't even let you ride Daisy 'til all this is settled, until we figure out what to do with you or where to send you.”

“I got to go away again, Pa? I don't—”

“I don't know, Billy. There's a lot to think about. For now, you got to stay plum out of sight when folks come around here.” He looked at Billy. “Your ma's talked to Jamie about this. He ain't to say nothing to his teacher at the schoolhouse, or to his friends.”

“You think the army's gonna come lookin'?”

“Reckon I can't answer that.” Pa spit on the ground. Leaning over, he picked up a stick and drove the herd across the field.

The days rolled quickly into December. Except for helping Pa in the barn, Billy spent most of his hours by the parlor window, whittling and watching for Jamie to come down the lane, grateful the school day was finally over. In the half-light of the evening, he and Jamie would cross the pastures to the edge of the forest, gathering branches of hemlock, pine, birch, maple, and oak. Billy chose the white birch for Elijah's fish and the harder red oak for the spear. On the nights Billy carved, Jamie rarely left his side, delighted when at last the fish, perfectly arced, its belly pierced with a long thin spear, was placed in his hands. Promising its safekeeping for Elijah, Jamie begged Billy to let him keep it in his room.